Page 411 of Rage

He pulled me closer, his voice intense. “And you’ve given me the courage to face mine. We’re in this together, Mila.”

I snuggled into his side, feeling safe and loved. “I know. And it’s going to be fine. I promise.”

The convention in California was a big step for me, both professionally and personally. It was a chance to immerse myself in my field, connect with colleagues, and prove to myself that I could navigate the world beyond my carefully constructed bubble.

And if I happened to drive by a specific address and leave a little surprise for someone, that was just an added bonus.

The convention was practically alive with excitement and bustling people. I weaved through the crowded hall, my senses on high alert. I’d attended events like this before, but this one felt different.

Iwas different.

I stopped by a booth displaying the latest in cybersecurity software and struck up a conversation with one of the developers. His eyes lit up as we discussed the nuances of encryption and data protection, our shared passion creating an instant connection. It felt good to talk shop with someone in front of me rather than through a screen.

As I moved from booth to booth, collecting business cards and making mental notes, my mind kept drifting back to Beckett. His support meant everything to me. He had his own demons, yet he was always there for me, grounding me when I felt like I might float away. He’d literally committed murder for me.

During a break between sessions, I found a quiet corner to check my phone. There, I saw a text from Beckett:“Thinking of you. You got this.”

A small smile tugged at my lips as I replied with a quick thank you and a heart emoji.

In the afternoon, I attended a panel on emerging threats in cybersecurity. As they discussed the increasing sophistication of cyberattacks, I found myself scribbling notes furiously, ideas going off like rockets in my mind.

When the panel ended, I decided to take a short walk outside to clear my head. As I strolled through the nearby park, I couldn’t help but think about the package waiting in my hotel room.

I had taken Beckett’s father’s watch during my so-called work trip—a symbolic act of reclaiming power over our shared trauma. It sat on the nightstand now, a reminder of what we’d both endured and how far we’d come.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of presentations and networking. By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted but wildly on edge at the same time. Back in my hotel room, I sat on the bed and stared at the watch for a long time. Beckett kept it all this time because he felt guilt and a plethora of other emotions regarding his dad. He took the watch because it was his father’s favorite possession, and he wanted him to feel just a sliver of the pain he had been made to suffer.

It was time to get rid of it.

Beckett’s text buzzed again:“Miss you.”

I typed back quickly:“Miss you too.”

And with that simple exchange, I knew we would be okay.

But I couldn’t say the same for his father.

Chapter Ten

Beckett

Ileaned against the wall, wiping the sweat from my brow as I surveyed the mess in Mila’s living room. The Christmas tree stood tall against the row of windows, its branches still drooping from the packaging. I’d spent over an hour untangling lights and rummaging through boxes for ornaments from both of our apartments. I wanted it to be perfect for her return.

The faint sound of footsteps in the hallway drew my attention.

She was home.

I straightened up, stepping back to admire my handiwork—or lack thereof. The tree leaned slightly to one side, and half the lights flickered ominously. I chuckled under my breath; maybe it was a metaphor for us. Still standing but wobbling at times.

As she walked in, her eyes widened, taking in the scene.

“Beckett? What is this?” Her voice mixed surprise with amusement even though she looked from her travels, dressed in a plain white sweatsuit and sneakers. Her coat looked like it was eating her, a black puffy thing that came down almost to the floor.

Grinning, I took her coat from her. “Surprise! Figured we could use some holiday spirit.”

She moved her bags to the side and stepped closer, inspecting the tree like a detective scrutinizing evidence.

“I thought you were supposed to make it look better than this.” Her lips quirked into a smile that lit up the room more than any string of lights ever could.

---